


sugar

by unreadable0



Series: I'll find you in every universe... [6]
Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sugar Daddy, CEO Kuroro, Crack, Domestic Bliss, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, GLUCOSE GUARDIANS!, Grad student Kurapika, Idiots in Love, Kurapika babysits Woble, Kuroro's thirsty af, M/M, Mutual Pining, Sexual Tension, and Gon and Killua, author's attempt at humor, platonic? leorio/kurapika, pta moms - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-05-28 11:21:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19393087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unreadable0/pseuds/unreadable0
Summary: Kurapika, an in-debt graduate student, bumps into an old acquaintance and unintentionally gets himself into a particular arrangement. Sugar Daddy AU





	1. a chance reunion

Kurapika _knew_ that letting Gon and Killua have ice cream had been a bad idea. 

The blond sighed heavily from the park bench he was sitting on, nudging the man next to him as he watched the two sugar-fueled monsters run off into another section of the playground. 

“We should go after them,” he told Leorio. The implied ‘ _you should go after them’_ was clear, but the medical student just raised an eyebrow, not even bothering to look up from his textbook. 

“It’s your turn,” Leorio reminded him absently. “I went last time.” Kurapika groaned, laying his head on the man’s shoulder. 

“But I took double shifts at Mizai’s lab earlier this morning,” he complained petulantly. “I’m _tired._ ” Leorio was hardly moved, casting him a long look. 

“Fine,” Kurapika grumbled. He gave the other man a pointed pat on his shoulder. “Come find me when you’re done with that chapter. I don’t like having to play nice with all of these suburban moms alone.”

Leorio rolled his eyes. “You’ll survive.”

Shaking his head, Kurapika walked over to where the boys had run off. As much as he loved babysitting Gon and Killua, they were undoubtedly a handful. Usually he had Senritsu or Leorio helping him out, but with the former off studying abroad at a musical conservatory and the latter busy studying for finals, Kurapika was pretty much on his own. Giving a pinched smile to one of the mothers that he encountered often— _Camille_ , if Kurapika recalled correctly—he tried to ignore the downright _lascivious_ stare that she sent his way. Gross. 

He breathed a sigh of relief as he caught sight of Killua’s trademark silver hair. The two boys were talking to a man dressed oddly in a business suit, seemingly enraptured in whatever he was saying. The man had his head angled downward so Kurapika couldn’t see his face, and the strangely-maternal instincts that Kurapika had built up over the years urged him to quicken his pace. 

“Oh, Kurapika!” Gon called excitedly as he caught up to them. Kurapika brushed his enthusiasm off, pinning the two kids with a stern look. 

“Gon, Killua, what have I told you about wandering off?” he admonished. The two boys exchanged sheepish glances and Kurapika sighed. They were going to get a talking-to later, but he’d let them off of the hook for now. “I’m sorry,” Kurapika told the man distractedly. “I’ve told them countless times before not to go around bothering random people—”

“It’s quite alright,” the man interrupted smoothly. Kurapika looked up at him for the first time and promptly had to keep himself from falling back on his ass in his surprise. 

The stranger watched him with faint amusement stirring his handsome features. _Handsome_ being the operative word here. Kurapika tried his best not to openly stare. The man had smooth, pale skin, which sat at odds with his dark hair and even darker eyes. The stark contrast was just like the rest of him—absolutely striking. It wasn’t until his lips stretched into a smile, showing off rows of perfect teeth, that Kurapika realized he had met the man before. 

_Kuroro Lucilfer_. His name brought back memories of Kurapika’s sophomore year of college, of heated debates from across the lecture hall and playful banter echoing off of dorm room walls as they worked late into the night. He still remembered the last time they had crossed paths five years ago, and the charged look the man had sent his way before being swept back into the crowd of graduates. Kurapika hadn’t seen him since. 

“Oh,” Kurapika stumbled, running a nervous hand through his hair. “Um, hi?” The greeting got scrambled in his mouth, coming out more like a question. _Great. Make a fool of yourself._ As if he didn’t look ridiculous enough, dressed haphazardly in a pair of jeans and one of Leorio’s borrowed shirts. It was one of his embarrassing ones, too, with the words ‘ _Beer and Babes_ ’ scrawled in neon font on the front next to an illustration of a large pint of alcohol. 

The other man was wearing a _suit,_ for Christ’s sake. 

Kuroro just grinned, the slight crookedness of the expression somehow coming off as even more endearing. He had forgotten just how annoyingly symmetrical the man’s face was, and before the blond knew it, he was staring again. Kurapika cursed himself inwardly.

“Kurapika—” Kurapika was surprised that he still remembered his name “—it’s nice to see you again.” The way that Kuroro’s eyes raked up his form appreciatively did not go amiss. Kurapika fought back a blush. 

“Yes. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Kuroro was standing near enough now that the scent of his cologne carried lightly in the air. Kurapika tried not to think very hard about how the smell of cardamom and cedar would cling to his clothes if he just leaned in a little closer.

“Indeed.”

Gon turned to his friend, confused. “Hey Killua, what’re they doing? They’re just standing there, not saying anything.” The boy just smirked, the expression vaguely reminiscent of a cat. 

“You’ll understand when you’re older,” he told him, snickering. Kurapika blinked, remembering himself.

“Oh! Go on and play,” he told them, waving them off. “But make sure to stay where I can see you.” 

Gon grinned, his happy mood immediately restored. “Okay! Nice to meet you, Mr. Kuroro!”

Killua shot Kurapika a knowing glance, all-too-mischievous for his age, before grabbing Gon’s hand and running off. Kurapika sighed, watching as they immediately disappeared into the treeline. He worried his lip. _Oh, well. Leorio can keep an eye on them._

“Are they yours?” 

His head snapped back to glance at the other man. The look on Kuroro’s face was carefully blank, but there was a wistful note to his tone that made Kurapika tilt his head curiously. 

“No,” he replied. “I just play nanny for them sometimes. Their parents are busy people.” _And emotionally abusive, in Killua’s case._

“That’s a shame,” Kuroro said, although his voice said the opposite, “they’re very cute.”

Kurapika laughed to himself, missing how the other man perked up at the sound. “Oh yes, but they’re quite a hassle.”

“You seem to be managing.” The blond ducked his head to hide his embarrassment. He was never one that accepted praise easily and the playful undercurrent to Kuroro’s compliments made him more jittery than usual. 

“So, I see life has treated you pretty well since the last time I saw you,” Kurapika commented, trying his best to divert the conversation from himself. He nodded at the expensive cut of Kuroro’s suit. 

Kuroro’s lips twitched upwards. “It’s a living,” he said cryptically. “How about you?” 

“I’m finishing off my last year of grad school,” he told him. 

“Graduating early? You don’t strike me as the type to want to leave school as soon as they can.” Humor glittered in the other’s eyes. Kurapika found himself laughing. 

“Well,” he started, “there’s a dig site that’s opening up soon and I have to have my degree finished by then if I want to participate. The paperwork is stressful and I haven’t slept in weeks, but I make do.”

Kuroro smiled at him. “Stressed? I couldn’t tell—” Kurapika snorted in disbelief “—you look really good.”

Kurapika choked on nothing else but his own surprise. “Excuse me?”

“Well. You look well,” Kuroro amended quickly, and Kurapika smothered his confusion. He wondered what had happened to the man from five years ago, the one that was unruffled by everything and everyone. “Coffee,” the man blurted. “Would you—would you like to grab one? A coffee, I mean.” The man cleared his throat, shoving his hands into his pockets. 

“Sure,” Kurapika replied slowly. “Are you alright?”

“I’m perfectly fine,” Kuroro assured him once he had regained his composure. “It’s just—” he cut himself off, choosing instead to stare at Kurapika meaningfully. And wow, Kuroro really took the term ‘eye contact’ to a literal context. The blond tried his best not to shift under his heavy gaze because on the one hand, Kuroro Lucilfer was probably the most attractive person he had ever met, but on the other, the man was way out of Kurapika’s league—and tax bracket, probably—and was probably just being nice.

Right, _nice._ Because that was what you called it when someone was undressing you mentally with their eyes. 

“No real reason for me asking,” Kuroro said, breaking the silence, “but are you—”

“Hey, Kurapika,” a voice called from behind him. A hand landed on his shoulder and Kurapika turned to Leorio, faintly irritated that his friend had interrupted his conversation. “The kids want to grab some dinner and I—uh…” The medical student stopped, scrutinizing Kuroro with clear wariness. “Who’s this?”

Kuroro’s stare flickered between the two of them before something like realization flashed in his eyes. The flirtatious edge to his voice immediately retreated. “Kuroro Lucilfer,” he introduced, offering a hand. “I went to school with Kurapika a few years back.”

To his credit, Leorio only hesitated for a moment before shaking his hand. “Leorio. I’m Kurapika’s friend who doubles as the father of his children.” Kurapika and Kuroro both stared at the doctor in surprise. Leorio blinked, blanching. “Wait, that didn’t come out right.”

Kurapika laughed to himself, patting the man’s hand in a frantic way that said _‘shut up while you can’_. “I think all the studying got to your head.” Stepping back to face the both of them, he gestured to Leorio. “This is Leorio Paladiknight, one of my friends who helps me out with watching Gon and Killua sometimes.”

“Yeah,” Leorio affirmed, looking faintly red. “That’s me.” He turned to look at Kurapika again. “Wait, are you wearing my shirt?”

The blond glanced down. “You just noticed?”

“Well, excuse me if I was a little _preoccupied._ ”

“Ah,” Kuroro said, cutting into their side conversation, “‘ _friend_.’ I see.” He glanced at Kurapika’s hand as if looking for something. 

There was an awkward beat of silence before Leorio reached for Kurapika, interlacing their fingers. 

“Anyway, I also came over to tell you that Camille is looking for you again,” he said, tugging him into motion, “and there is _no_ way that I’m talking to her alone.” Kurapika made a face of distaste. 

“You’re the worst,” he stated flatly, before directing his gaze to the dark-haired man in front of him. “I’ll meet you for coffee tomorrow at 3 pm?” Kurapika prompted Kuroro, handing him his contact information as he allowed himself to be towed away. 

Kuroro offered him a slow smile, one that sent blood rushing straight to the very place Kurapika had been trying _so_ hard to ignore the entire conversation. 

“I’ll be there.”

* * *

“I’m so fucked,” Kurapika said to himself, groaning, as he pedaled his bike to the new coffee shop that Kuroro had suggested they meet at. “Oh God, I am _so_ fucked.” He tried to tell himself that the reason why he found the man so irresistible was simply because he hadn’t hooked up with anyone in a while. Not because he had once harbored a crush on Kuroro roughly the size of Pluto.

 _I’m not nineteen anymore,_ he reminded himself. Kuroro had asked to meet with him as friends to catch up—nothing more, nothing less. Getting any hopes up would be foolish. 

At least he was dressed nicer this time around, though. It was embarrassing how much time it had taken Kurapika to find something remotely fashionable in his closet that wasn’t a suit or a lab coat. He’d settled for a blue button-up and close-fitting white slacks, a combination that he hoped was _just_ formal enough to show that he could dress like a normal adult, but not too formal that people would think he was trying too hard. 

Trying to shut up his inner ramblings, Kurapika opened the door to the coffee shop. He was faintly surprised to see that Kuroro had beaten him there. The man was dressed, again, in a suit, and Kurapika tried not to think about how absurd they looked together. 

Kuroro smiled at him as he slid into the seat across from him. 

“I hope you don’t mind that I took the liberty to order your drink for you,” he told him. “Dark-blend coffee with two splashes of cream and no sugar, right?”

“Your memory scares me sometimes,” Kurapika admitted, laughing. “How much was it?” He reached for his wallet, but Kuroro waved him off. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he assured him, “my treat.” The way that Kuroro lingered on the last word made Kurapika flatten his lips into a flat line, pointedly _not_ looking the other man in the eye. _Was he doing this on purpose?_

Odd sexual tension aside, the two of them exchanged light conversation for a while, talking about what had happened since the last time they had seen each other. Kurapika wasn’t astonished to hear that Kuroro had risen from his position as an assistant curator to the CEO of the art-distribution company. The man had moved up to that rank two years ago, and in that time his business grew to a burgeoning force in the upper-class art markets. Kurapika, in turn, told Kuroro about his studies in the Archeology department, about his focus on anthropology, and about his work in assisting his professor Mizaistorm in publishing his third thesis. Kuroro listened attentively to their conversation, hanging on to every word that left Kurapika’s mouth. 

After a few more minutes of this, Kuroro left to go pick up their orders. Kurapika let out a sigh of relief, rubbing at his temples. He had noticed more than once how the man’s eyes had drifted from his eyes to his lips, and from his lips to… other places. Again, Kurapika wondered if the man was doing all of this consciously. 

If he wasn’t… Kurapika wasn’t sure just how long he would be able to hold out. 

He smiled when Kuroro returned with their drinks, dipping his head in thanks. 

“So, you and the doctor, then?” Kuroro asked nonchalantly, handing him his coffee as he sat down. 

“No,” Kurapika answered. He let out a sharp laugh, “We’re just friends.”

Kuroro raised one perfect eyebrow skeptically. “Friends? Friends that wear each other’s clothes and hold hands in public?”

The blond glanced down. “We have… an interesting dynamic. Leorio and I have custody over Gon and Killua—Killua especially—more often than their own parents, and after a while the other families in the area began to assume.” Kurapika rolled his eyes. “It’s easier this way. But yes, we’re just friends.”

“Oh.” The pleased note in the other’s voice made Kurapika look upward in confusion. “I see.”

“You see?” he echoed. 

Kuroro grinned, blindingly bright _._ Kurapika took a quick sip from his cup to hide the flush crawling up his cheeks, wincing as the hot liquid burned down his throat. 

“That’s good,” the dark-haired man said. 

“Good?” Oh, great. Now he was just repeating him like some daft idiot. Kuroro just hummed in response and Kurapika somehow managed to find even _that_ maddeningly attractive. 

“Would you like to go to dinner with me tomorrow?” Kuroro asked, smile widening as Kurapika blinked back at him in shock.

Setting down his coffee cup shakily, Kurapika cleared his throat. “Dinner? As in…” he trailed off, making a vague hand motion. 

“As in, a _date_ ,” Kuroro clarified. “That’s what people do, right?” His awkward, almost fumbling manner of speaking absolutely did _not_ match up with the way that his eyes traced up and down Kurapika’s form. The deliberate slowness to the action that made Kurapika’s mouth dry.

His brain scrambled to pinpoint the exact place in the conversation when Kuroro’s polite offer had turned into a thinly-veiled proposition.

“A date, right,” he said, half to himself. _God, I am so fucked._

Kuroro just smiled again, deceptively innocent. “Oh, you will be,” he told him, his voice lowered to something that was almost a purr. Kurapika realized he had said the last part out loud and he immediately felt his face heat up. Getting up from his chair, Kuroro ghosted a hand down Kurapika’s cheek, his thumb catching the blond’s bottom lip. 

“I’ll come to pick you up at eight o’clock tomorrow.”

Kurapika tore his eyes away from the other man. “Oh, I—” Kuroro laughed lightly, as if predicting what he was about to say. 

“Don’t bother biking, Kurapika,” he said softly. 

“ _I’d hate to have you worn out before the night’s even started._ ”

Well, fuck. 


	2. a dinner date

_Five years ago…_

The professor had made a mistake. Kurapika was sure of it. Either that, or she was more sadistic that he had originally taken her for. Why else would she have paired him with such an insufferable idiot if not to watch his grades and his own sanity go up in flames? 

The insufferable idiot in question was standing in the hallway in front of his dorm, waving cheerily. “Good morning.”

“You have _got_ to be kidding me.” Kurapika squinted at the man in front of him. “You’re—” he glanced at his watch “—ten minutes early.”

The graduate student smiled, unfazed. “Can I come in?” 

The urge to slam the door in his face was growing more and more tempting. Seriously, what was the man wearing? 

“You’re wearing slacks and a button up,” Kurapika observed, “to… brainstorm?”

“And you’re wearing… sweatpants,” Kuroro commented, dipping his head in mock respect. Kurapika’s eyebrow twitched. 

“Yes, because I’m not a psychopath. _Jesus._ ” Even so, Kurapika moved out of the doorway, gesturing for him to come in. 

Admirably, Kuroro paused to take off his shoes, setting aside the undoubtedly expensive footwear neatly in the corner. Approval sparked somewhere deep in Kurapika’s mind. 

“So what were you thinking for the end-of-semester project?” Kurapika asked. He sat down on his bed, leaving Kuroro to stand awkwardly in the middle of the carpet. 

“I think I’d like to hear your ideas first,” he replied, moving to lean against Kurapika’s desk. The blond rolled his eyes. 

“Because you don’t have any?”

“I do. I have ideas,” Kuroro defended rather quickly. “It’s just that I’d rather get your perspective first.”

Kurapika eyed him suspiciously. “You don’t care about this class at all, do you?”

The grad student shrugged. “It doesn’t matter whether or not I fail this presentation, if that’s what you’re asking—”

Kurapika’s heart dropped. Well, there went his GPA.

“—but I _do_ care. I genuinely enjoy Professor Yorkshire’s seminar.” 

Kurapika looked at him from the corner of his vision. “I just feel like you enjoy making my life hell,” he muttered. Kuroro laughed, and Kurapika hated how good he looked doing it. 

“That too.” Kuroro clasped his hands in front of him. “So shoot. What are you thinking?”

Against his better judgment, he explained his proposal. To his surprise, Kuroro didn’t interrupt, and once he had finished, the man nodded in agreement. Kurapika faltered. 

“You’re... not going to argue with me on this?”

The man shrugged. “It’s a good idea. Why? Do you want me to argue with you about it?” The teasing smile was back. Kurapika’s stomach did a funny little flip.

“No,” Kurapika replied. “It’s just odd. You not being a total dick about everything.”

“Ow.” Kuroro feigned hurt. “That really hurt, Kurapika. Right here—“ he pointed to his chest “—in my cold, dead heart.” The blond snorted, sliding off of the mattress until he hung upside down off the side of the bed.

“So what were _you_ planning?”

Kuroro looked faintly embarrassed. “Nothing fancy. Just something with historical societal order and its lingering effects on the Yorbian governmental model.” Kurapika raised his eyebrows. 

“Low-hanging fruit,” he remarked. 

“I thought so,” Kuroro said shamelessly. “Because I’m a complete…” he trailed off, growing distracted. The blond was suddenly very aware of the fact that his sweatshirt had ridden up, although he wasn’t entirely sure how those two isolated events correlated with each other. He wet his lips nervously. 

“Because you’re a complete…?” Kurapika prompted expectantly. 

The other man’s gaze sprung back up from the exposed sliver of tan skin. “Idiot. Because I’m a complete idiot,” he finished smoothly, as if he hadn’t just spent twenty seconds in silence staring at his classmate’s stomach. 

“So we’re going with my idea, then?”

“Yes. Of course. My idea was stupid.” Kurapika fought back a laugh. 

“Finally. Something we can both agree on.” He turned serious. “Though there’s just one problem I can’t get past,” Kurapika admitted, sighing. 

Kuroro nodded. “How would we get this done in time?” Kurapika pursed his lips. 

“I know you have your other exams coming up,” Kurapika pointed out, fiddling with the string of his sweatshirt, “and I do too.”

Humming thoughtfully, Kuroro joined him on the bed, mirroring Kurapika’s position. The man looked ridiculous, his expensive dress shirt a sharp contrast to the cheap material of his sheets. Kurapika shot him a quizzical look.

“What?” Kuroro asked defensively, “I think better this way.”

“Right.”

After a few moments of companionable silence, Kuroro turned his head to look at him. 

“We’ll get it done,” he told him confidently. 

Furrowing his brow, Kurapika did his best to ignore the fact that their shoulders were almost touching. “And how is that?”

“I have my ways,” Kuroro said cryptically. Kurapika huffed, skeptical. The man frowned. “Oh, ye of little faith.” 

“To be fair, you haven't given me much to put my faith in,” he reminded him. Kuroro rolled onto his side to face him. 

“Isn’t that how literally _every_ religion is?” 

“Are you implying that you are a god?”

Kuroro shrugged. “Maybe.”

The blond scoffed. “Conceited,” he said, and there was definitely _not_ an affectionate edge to his tone. “You know, you’re less of an asshole than I thought,” Kurapika conceded.

“I’m honored,” Kuroro responded, smiling. Their faces were close now, so close that Kurapika could count the flecks of silver in the other’s eyes. Kuroro watched him with startling focus, all the bravado and humor drained from his expression. 

_Bad idea,_ Kurapika thought to himself. He startled as Kuroro leaned in, and the man took the opportunity to loop an arm around his waist, steadying him. 

“Careful,” Kuroro murmured against his lips, “don’t want you to fall off.” 

“Uh-huh,” Kurapika managed, mouth dry. He was cross-eyed now, fixated on the point where Kuroro’s nose brushed his. 

Kuroro laughed. He pulled away abruptly to sit up on the bed and Kurapika could breathe again. “So, does this Thursday work for you to start on the research?”

Getting up, Kurapika nodded. “I know the library to the west of the campus opens the latest.” His face still felt embarrassingly hot, and he hoped that Kuroro wouldn’t notice. 

“Perfect,” he said, enunciating the ‘p’. Kurapika tried to convince himself that Kuroro’s intense staring meant nothing. 

“So 6pm at the west campus library, then?” he asked as Kuroro walked over to the door to put on his shoes. The man looked up from tying his shoes to shoot him a sickening grin. Sickening in the fact that it made Kurapika’s insides fall into a jumbling mess, that is. 

“I’ll see you there.” 

It wasn’t until Kuroro had left, the dorm door shutting with a quiet click behind him, that Kurapika trusted himself to let go of the breath he had been holding. 

Falling back onto his sagging mattress, he glared up at the ceiling. 

“God, I need a drink.”

* * *

_Present Day..._

_Fuck, fuck, fuck._

Kurapika fumbled to do up the buttons of his dress shift with one hand, the other wrapped securely around the soft fabric of Woble’s jumper. The stubborn clasp slipped out of his grasp once more. _Shit._

“Oh, nuts,” he said aloud, because he was a firm believer of not cursing in front of children. Woble giggled at his distress, batting her ravioli-sized fists at his hair. He checked the clock on the kitchen counter. 

_7:50._

He breathed a sigh of relief. _I still have ten minutes, thank god…_

Then the doorbell rang and Kurapika groaned.

“Coming,” he called out, hefting Woble onto one hip. Kurapika bit back a smile as the baby grasped for his cheek while he opened the door. 

Kuroro stood on the welcome mat, looking very out of place in an expensive blazer and pressed slacks. He looked good, impossibly good, and Kurapika forgot the simple concept of words for a brief moment. 

“Oh, hi,” Kurapika managed, bouncing Woble a bit as she giggled. “You’re early.”

“Fashionably.” Kuroro agreed, although there was a distant look in his eyes that Kurapika couldn’t quite decipher. 

“Um, sorry,” he apologized. “I wasn’t expecting you for a little while longer.” 

Kuroro snapped out of his thoughts. “It’s perfectly fine,” he assured him. “Who is this?” He nodded towards the baby in his arms. 

The blond smoothed down one of her curls. “This is Woble,” he introduced. Kuroro watched the infant curiously, as if trying to figure out some sort of puzzle. 

“She’s cute,” Kuroro said. 

“Terribly,” Kurapika agreed. “I think I spoil her too much at times.”

The man laughed, shaking his head. “There is no such thing as ‘spoiling too much.’” There was an odd lapse in conversation then, and Kurapika would have chalked it up to awkwardness if it weren’t for the purpose laden within it as Kuroro stared intently at him. 

A soft pattering of footsteps sounded from behind Kurapika before a pair of arms extricated Woble from his grasp. The blond unfroze. 

“Mommy’s got you,” Oito cooed to her daughter, laughing as the baby gurgled back happily in response. Turning to Kurapika, she shot him a sheepish look. “Sorry Kurapika, I totally lost track of time.”

He smiled warmly. “Don’t worry about it. I know how clients get.” 

“Still, I shouldn’t have kept you so late,” she said, worrying her lip. “Especially since—” she cut herself off, glancing at Kuroro for the first time. Her eyes swept over the expensive cut of his suit critically, a frown turning her lips downward. 

He hesitated to assume what was going through her mind at that moment, but the look of concern that she gave him told him more than enough. _Dear Lord, she thinks that I’m in_ that _sort of arrangement._

“I don’t mind at all,” Kurapika said quickly, trying to salvage the situation. “Same time tomorrow?” he asked. Oito nodded slowly. 

“Yes, please,” she answered. “Be sure to call me if you… _need anything_.” She eyed Kuroro meaningfully. 

Kurapika swallowed nervously. “Of course.” Oito seemed satisfied with his response, ushering him out of the door with a brief kiss on the cheek. 

“She seems very protective of you,” Kuroro commented once the door had been shut behind him. “Another single mother hot on your case, I assume?” Kurapika blanched. If hadn’t known better, he would have thought the man was jealous. 

“No,” he replied, appalled, “No, of course not. Oito is a friend that I help out sometimes.” _A lot,_ really, but it wasn’t his fault that he had a weakness to cute babies. 

“I see.” Kuroro shook his head, laughing to himself. “I mean no offence,” he began, although his tone was distinctly teasing, “but conservatively, how many children do you have?” 

“Just two, normally,” he defended, straight-faced. “You just caught me at the wrong time. You’re always ten minutes early, I swear,” Kurapika grumbled, although his heart wasn't in it. Kuroro made an amused sound. 

“Better early than late, I think.” His hand had settled comfortably at the small of his back, gentle but possessive. Kurapika shivered despite himself. 

“I think not. Especially when I wasn’t even finished getting dressed,” he complained, finishing the last button. The other man glanced at him from the corner of his eye. 

“Why bother?” Kuroro’s fingers tip-toed their way up his back, innocent enough. “I rather liked it—you, just a little undone.”

Kurapika’s pulse sped up. There it was again. Those comments—deceptively innocuous on the surface, but tipped with something that made him blush every damn time. This instance was no exception. He pursed his lips, looking away to hide his reddening face. 

“I—”

“Oh, Kurapika!” 

“Oh _fuck me_ ,” he cursed to himself. Had it been _literally_ anyone else, Kurapika would have been grateful for the interruption. He groaned inwardly, turning around to the source of the overly-cheery voice. “Good evening, Ms. Krueger.” Why, just _why_ , did Gon and Killua’s instructors have to live in the same apartment building as him? 

The woman smiled at him sweetly, an expression that still came off as vaguely intimidating. 

“I was just talking with Dean Netero about whether or not you and your husband were coming to the Academy picnic next Saturday,” she told him, still watching him with that oddly-scrutinizing look that made Kurapika want to fidget. 

He bit back the reflexive response of _‘Leorio and I aren’t married’,_ because if it hadn’t worked the previous twenty-six times, it wouldn’t work now. Forcing his lips into a strained smile, he kept his voice carefully neutral. “Of course. Leorio and I plan to attend.”

“Excellent, excellent,” Biscuit said, nodding. “Always good to have some _nice young men_ along on these stuffy school functions.” 

Kurapika blushed, although he wasn’t surprised anymore at how blatant the woman’s flirting was. He shuddered as he recalled the particularly mortifying time when Leorio had worn a short-sleeved button up to one of the parent-teacher meetings and Biscuit just _wouldn’t stop feeling up his arms._ “Should we be expecting your husband’s famous fruit salad, then?” she prompted. 

“Sure,” Kurapika agreed, making a mental note to swing by the grocery store to pick up the ingredients. “We can do that.”

“Lovely. Just make sure that there aren’t any strawberries, dear. Zushi is allergic.”

“Of course.” Kurapika sometimes wondered how his life had come to this. 

“Great,” Biscuit practically sang before catching sight of Kuroro. “And _oh_ —who might you be?” Alarm flashed over the dark-haired man’s features as she immediately started to inch toward him. 

Kurapika rolled his eyes. “Okay. That’s enough,” he said, taking Kuroro by the arm and dragging him away. “Sorry,” he told the man once they were out of earshot, running a hand through his hair. “I always forget that she lives in the building.” Kuroro nodded in understanding. 

“Fruit salad,” Kuroro repeated to himself, amusement clear. Kurapika slapped him playfully on the arm.

“Shut up.”

“I’ve got to say,” the man continued, grinning, “I didn’t think you were going to settle down _that_ quickly.”

He groaned. “Don’t remind me. The rumor mill is going to be on overdrive because of all this.”

“Because of this?” Kuroro’s hand slid down to rest at his ass. 

Slapping him away, Kurapika hissed, “ _Dick._ ”

“No,” Kuroro corrected with mock-seriousness, “that’s for later.”

The blond spluttered. “You—”

“I’m joking,” the man assured him. He reached for Kurapika’s hand and brought it to his lips, suddenly a gentleman again. “I would never offer something so crass—”

“ _Good._ ” Kuroro’s eyes glinted, heated. 

“—unless you wanted it.” The tempered note in his voice knocked the air out of Kurapika's lungs, because _god,_ he had not prepared himself enough for this. 

_‘I do,’_ sat ready at Kurapika’s lips but he swallowed it back. He settled for a blithe, “Dinner first.” 

Kuroro’s smile widened. “Of course.” He led him out onto the street where a sleek, black car was parked. 

“Flashy,” he commented. Kuroro shrugged. 

“But not overcompensating.”

“Hm,” Kurapika replied, noncommittal. “I guess we’ll see.”

All he got in response was a strangled noise before Kurapika slid into the passenger’s seat, shutting the door behind him. 

“You can’t just leave me hanging with a comment like that,” Kuroro complained as he turned the key in the ignition. The quiet purr of the engine was a sharp contrast to the loud rumbling of Leorio’s old truck. Kurapika watched, fascinated, as the car accelerated smoothly through the streets. 

“I guess that makes us even, then.” Kuroro’s gaze met his in the rear-view mirror.

"Not quite."

During the car ride, Kuroro’s hand remained at the base of Kurapika’s thigh. 

_“For safety,”_ he had explained, but there was a certain brand of seduction in the way that that his pointer finger tapped absently at the material of his slacks. He was half certain that the man was well-aware of what he was doing, but then again, he would never have the nerve to call him out for it. 

Kurapika counted his blessings that he hadn’t jumped the man in the few minutes it took to drive to the restaurant, a small Italian restaurant at the edge of the business district. 

“And here I thought you were going to drag me to some Michelin-starred restaurant to impress me,” he quipped as he stepped out of the vehicle. Kuroro laughed. 

“Do you need to be impressed?”

He scoffed. “Please don’t. You’re saving my wallet by taking me here.” Kuroro stopped, looking at him curiously. 

“Do you really think that I wouldn’t pay for you?”

“I know you would try,” Kurapika said, “but I wouldn’t let you.”

Kuroro arched a single brow. “And why not?” 

“I’m not fond of owing people,” he stated simply, taking his hand and tugging him into motion. Kuroro huffed, amused. 

“I could think of a few things you could do to make it up to me.” Kurapika glanced at him, unimpressed. 

“Five years,” he sniped, “and you’ve only gotten more immature.”

Kuroro offered him a boyish grin. “I guess we balance each other out, then.” Kurapika scowled.

“You’re insufferable.”

The other man just stepped closer, crowding him close despite the fact that they were still in plain view of the other patrons of the restaurant through the windows. 

“Five years is a long time, Kurapika,” he murmured, suddenly serious, lips now startlingly close to Kurapika’s own. His eyes dragged lazily up from the other’s mouth, grey eyes meeting brown. “We have quite a lot of catching up to do.”

Perhaps it was the intimate edge to the other’s words, or the fact that Kuroro’s hand found its way to his waist, smoothing upwards, but a new hunger gnawed in Kurapika’s stomach. He cleared his throat, trying not to lose himself in the other’s warmth. 

“So we do.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this fic is built entirely on kuroro and kurapika's mutual thirst for each other tbh
> 
> so sorry that updating this thing took so long--this chapter has been in the works for the past two months and i'm still not entirely happy with it. this chapter was going to originally encapsulate the entire date, but then it got kinda long and i was too lazy to write the last half of it so! i've squirreled my way out of writing anything explicit this chapter, but uhhhh yeah next chapter be prepared for my amateur attempt at some e-rated stuff! 
> 
> please let me know what you thought of this chapter! school is already biting me in the ass this year and reading your comments really motivates me to write! reviews/comments are the currency between authors and readers, so if you have the time, it would really mean a lot if you could drop a few words!
> 
> added notes:
> 
> 1\. kurapika + kuroro's college escapades will probably be further expanded in like chapter four. next chapter is just going to be present-day stuff
> 
> 2\. oito totally thought that kurapika had lent himself out to kuroro for the night, which was why she was so concerned. ouch on kuroro, really. 
> 
> 3\. this fic has basically just become my dumping ground for really bad jokes and hijinks. sorry about that...\
> 
> thanks for reading! i hope you enjoyed this chapter! you can find me on tumble under the same username if you wanna talk about hxh/writing!

**Author's Note:**

> Ten bucks says that their coffee cups read: Qwuorforororf and Crapika. 
> 
> Ugh I'm reading through this and it's kind of gross writing but lol ok. I've been sitting on an idea like this for a while, so let me know what you think of it! Where do you think the story line should go? Ideas to put into future chapters? Also, the Explicit rating and the tags will come into play in the following chapters, so stay tuned!
> 
> Added Notes:
> 
> 1\. Kurapika babysits Gon and Killua to earn a little extra money to pay for college. Gon and Killua both live at the Hunter's Academy in Yorknew, but Kurapika gets paid to act like a nanny and drive them around to places as well as check up on what they're doing. Kurapika stumbled upon the offer because he's friends with Mito and she asked if he could watch over Gon in Yorknew. Killua came along a little later. 
> 
> 2\. The full backstory of Kuroro and Kurapika in college will be revealed in flashbacks throughout the rest of the fic.
> 
> 3\. Kuroro is 30, Kurapika is 24. Leorio is 25. Gon and Killua are both 7. 
> 
> 4\. Kuroro was a graduate student while Kurapika was a sophomore in college.
> 
> 5\. The "father of his children" part from Leorio stems from the past two years in which Kurapika and Leorio pretended to be Gon and Killua's parental guardians for all Hunter's Academy PTA meetings/family picnics and such.
> 
> 6\. The whole bit where Kuroro is looking at Kurapika's hand is because he was checking for a ring. No ring = free game.
> 
> 7\. Kuroro tries to act super suave and cool all the time, but when he messes up he gets flustered. Exhibit A: the whole coffee incident. 
> 
> Feel free to ask any questions you'd like about this AU! Thank you all for reading!
> 
> Lots of love,  
> unreadable0
> 
> P.S. Find me on tumblr @unreadable0 for extra writing/sneak peeks


End file.
